Tom Riddle's Acute Boredom
by princey
Summary: Voldemort is accidentally turned into a teenaged Tom Riddle by a vindictive Wormtail. He and Pansy pretend to go out in order to fend off his admirers. They behave casually. Later, Tom and Pansy embark upon a celibate marriage and Tom becomes a detective
1. Tom's amusing adventure

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters (please see chapter one of "Draco's Hunger" for a list of things I do own). 

A/N: anyway, this is a story about Tom Riddle…or Voldemort…sort of both. It's got a really stupid typical plot but it's done in a silly way so it doesn't bother me. Tom Riddle is such an awesome evil name. Plot suggestions are needed. 

Voldemort woke up one morning feeling like something terrible was going to happen that day. He wasn't too concerned because he felt like that frequently and, being the Dark Lord, he had to accept that some bad things were going to happen. He had decided long ago that he would only react to the really terrible ones. "Wormtail!" he called, deciding to start the day.

Almost immediately, Wormtail appeared next to his bed, "Yes, my lord?" he said.

"Bring my orange juice."

"Yes, my lord," Wormtail said, scurrying towards the door.

"Oh, one more thing."

Wormtail inclined his head, as if to say, "Yes, my lord?"

"How did you get here so quickly? If I didn't know better I'd say that you stand outside my door all the time, waiting for me to call you."

"Oh…" Wormtail began, shifting from foot to foot uneasily, "don't be silly…."

"Silly? You dare call _me_, Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, silly?"

Wormtail looked incredibly anxious, "Oh! No, my lord, I was talking to myself."

Voldemort could see through the obvious lie but he wanted his orange juice to arrive quickly so he decided not to press the matter any further. "All right, go get the orange juice," he sighed.

"Yes, my lord," this time Wormtail dashed out the door, which was much faster than scurrying but scurrying is more rat-like. When he got to the kitchen, he poured the orange juice and started muttering about how Voldemort didn't appreciate him at all and if he were gone, who would fetch the master's orange juice every morning? He continued this moronic musing until he saw a small vial sitting on the kitchen counter. "Hello…" he said devilishly, "what's this?" He picked up the vial and read the label. All it said was, "Do not feed to Voldemort." 'Well, whatever it is,' he thought, 'Voldemort will learn his lesson when he drinks it.' And so, completely oblivious to the consequences, he poured the contents of the vial into the orange juice and carried it up to Voldemort. Soon he was in the master bedroom. He set the tray on the bedside table and said, "Your juice, my lord," and bowed out of the room. 

Voldemort took a sip of the juice and couldn't help but notice that it had an odd, bitter taste. He weighed the possible consequences of drinking it against his desire for the daily glass of orange juice and decided to drink it. Soon he had finished the entire glass of smooth, tangy orange juice and decided to get dressed. He picked out an outfit from his evil closet and went to the mirror to prepare for the day. When he reached the mirror, which was very small and sooty, he thought he saw something odd about his appearance. "That's odd…" he murmured. "Wormtail," he said in his inside voice, as he figured that Wormtail was probably right outside his door. 

"Yes, my lord?" asked the inexcusable, rat-like person, doing a spit take when he saw his master's changed appearance. Although, he wasn't drinking anything at the time so the spit take came out sounding rather confusing. 

"Fetch me a better mirror," said Voldemort, "this one is too small and sooty."

"Yes, my lord," Wormtail scampered out of the room only to return fifteen minutes later, empty handed. "They were out of mirrors," he said glumly. "It seems that someone by the name of Draco Malfoy has purchased all of them."

Voldemort scowled and then yelled, "Lucius!" sounding suspiciously like Ricky Ricardo. 

Lucius Malfoy dashed into the room, "Yes, my lord?" Then he blinked several times in surprise at The Dark Lord's appearance.

Voldemort decided that he didn't really want to get into the speediness of everyone's arrival that day so he got straight to the point, "Your son has purchased all of the mirrors and I need one."

"I'll get one at once, my lord," said the creepy blonde man. He left and then quickly came back, holding a mirror. "Well, my lord, it was difficult getting it away from Draco but here it is."

Voldemort took the mirror and looked into it. "Oh dear lord," he muttered. "I seem to have turned into Tom Riddle. This is…well…unforeseen."

"Oh, my lord," gasped Wormtail, "you're gorgeous."

"Oh _thank you_," said Tom, his voice full of sarcasm. "That means _so _much to me. I was completely unaware of that fact until now." He stared sullenly into space for a few moments before saying, "Well, _now_ what am I going to do?"

Lucius and Wormtail looked down at the floor, neither of them wanting to say anything.

"Oh just get out," Tom snapped. When everyone was gone, he began to stare into the mirror. 'Well," he thought, 'I _am_ gorgeous. But what should I do about it? I don't want to live like a recluse when I look like this. It's so boring.' Just then a brilliant idea occurred to him. 'I'll go to Hogwarts for awhile. That would be terribly amusing.' He began to pack immediately. When he was finished he sent a letter to Dumbledore, letting the headmaster know of his imminent arrival. "Oh yes," he chuckled, "terribly amusing."

* * * 

Three days later, Tom Riddle arrived in the great hall of Hogwarts. He gazed around at the empty hall and smiled. He had a feeling that being a teenager once again was going to be a very entertaining adventure. Just then he heard an extremely irritating voice say something about a certain Dark Lord. He followed the sound of the voice until he reached the hallway. He stopped for a moment, to listen and found that whoever was talking was just around the corner. He quietly approached the mysterious person, who apparently was talking to his friends, so that he could clearly hear the conversation. 

"…So you see," the voice was saying, "my father says it's only a matter of time before The Dark Lord realizes how silly it is to be dithering about in that abandoned house and he'll return to full power."

"Wow…" another voice sighed.

"Oh for God's sake, Crabbe," said the original voice, "will you stop eating that Popsicle. The smell is driving me insane."

"You can't smell a Popsicle!" gasped Crabbe.

"_Anyway,_" continued the first voice, "I, for one, am looking forward to the day He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named comes to his senses."

"Comes to his senses?" Tom said, stepping around the corner. "Who _are_ you, young man, to presume that you have any idea what is good for _me_?"

"And who are you? Calling me young man, as if you're any older than I am!"

Tom paused a moment, looking at the strangely familiar person. "Oh…you must be Draco Malfoy." He chuckled sinisterly, "Your father has been positively _dispensable _lately."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh I'm sorry," Tom blinked and then grinned charmingly, holding out a few fingers to substitute for a handshake, "I'm Tom Riddle." Getting no response he said, "You know – Voldemort." 

Draco's eyes widened and he ran down the hall, followed closely by a very breathless Crabbe and Goyle. 

'Well, that was silly,' thought Tom, 'I definitely don't like that boy.' He walked down the hall until he reached Dumbledore's office. He went in (A/N: I'd say how he got in but right now that just sounds too boring for words) and said "Hello, Albus, been expecting me?"

"Yes, Tom. Cake?" he asked, holding up a huge, two-layered cake.

Tom was momentarily thrown off guard buy the absurd offer, but he quickly overcame his confusion and said, "No."

"So, tell me, what brought you back to Hogwarts? And what made you look fifty-two years younger?"

"Well, the youth thing was probably the fault of something Wormtail slipped into my orange juice and coming to Hogwarts was the result acute boredom."

"Ah. Well, I'm happy to give you a second chance. You can begin classes on Monday."

"What! You're giving me a second chance? Why?" 

"I believe in people."

Tom thought that this was the most moronic thing he had ever heard, (discounting everything Wormtail had ever said) but then his mind moved on to the second thing Dumbledore had said. "Wait – you're making me go to _class_! That's ridiculous, I'm the most powerful wizard in the world. You can't make me go to class."

"I'm the headmaster. I can make you go to class."

Tom opened and closed his mouth a few times and then just glared at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore chuckled and said, "It's good to have you back, Tom."

"Damn you!" he cried, running from the room. When he was out of the room he noticed that he had no where to go. 

That was when Dumbledore stepped out into the hall and said, "Come on, I'll show you to your room." Tom sullenly followed Dumbledore through the twisting passageways of the school until they reached what was now Tom's dorm. "I set it up for you when I received your letter," Dumbledore explained. 

"How sweet of you." Tom went into the room and glanced around. It would do, he decided. He looked over at Dumbledore and said, "Oh. You're still here?" 

"There are a few things that I wanted to tell you before I leave you alone."

Tom raised an inquiring eyebrow. 

"Well you see…" the old wizard began. However, he was quickly interrupted by a small toad hopping into the room. "How did that get in here?" he wondered. 

It was explained shortly by the arrival of Neville Longbottom, exclaiming, "Trevor!" 

"Who _is_ this?" asked Tom, edging away from the round lad. 

"Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore replied pulling a tin of candy from his robes. "Bonbon?" he offered.

"No," Tom said distractedly, watching Neville leave with the toad. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Ah yes," he paused. "That's funny. I don't remember. Ginger snap?" he asked, pulling a basket of cookies out of another fold in his robe. 

"No. Go away."

"Very well," Dumbledore left Tom alone in the large room, gazing out the window. 

After about ten minutes of solid gazing, Tom heard a loud argument coming from outside his door. He recognized one of the voices as the unfailingly irritating Draco Malfoy but the other one was too muffled to make out. 'Well,' he thought, walking towards the door, 'whoever it is, they're a friend of mine if they're on a Malfoy's bad side.' He opened the door, saying, "Draco, what are you doing, standing around in the hall fighting? Shouldn't you be running away?" 

He watched the death eater's son dash down the hallway and heard the other person involved in the scuffle say, "Wow, thanks." 

Not recognizing the voice because it sounded so cheerful, Tom turned to the teenager and was about to speak when he recognized a familiar lightening bolt scar. "Oh. You," he said coldly.

"Voldemort," Harry said curtly, obviously recognizing him from their little adventure in second year. 

Neither of them knew what to say so they occupied themselves by glaring at each other for about nineteen minutes. Finally Tom said, "Well, this _has_ been fun but I'm going to my room now." He turned around and walked into his room. 

A/N: more soon probably. If anyone has any suggestions for what should happen in the story next, please let me know. I can't think of anything right now. 


	2. Harry has a word with Tom

A/N: The people who find this to be unrealistic shouldn't worry because it _is_ a rather silly story, and also, I don't care. In fact, let's call this an AU…yes…one where almost everyone is a total moron. And as for the OOCness, meh. 

After Tom had been standing in his room for all of thirty-nine seconds, he heard some forceful knocking on the other side of his door. He waited for a few moments before answering it, because who answers their door right away? It looks pathetic. When he finally got around to opening it he was startled to see Harry Potter standing across the threshold. 

"Why couldn't you open the door? I knocked immediately after you shut it."

"Silly Harry, I never open a door right away. Actually, I usually don't even open doors. That's what I have Wormtail for." He paused and then looked at Harry inquiringly, "So…what do you want?"

"I'm wondering why you haven't tried to kill me. You've probably been at Hogwarts for some time now and I can't figure out why you haven't done anything really evil."

"Oh. Didn't I tell anyone?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Tell anyone what?"

"That I'm going to be a good person for awhile."

Harry didn't know what to say. However, after a few false starts, he managed to choke out, "You what!"

"Is that all you could come up with? I know that having your arch nemesis decide to join your side must be fairly shocking, but you _could_ have thought of a slightly more articulate question to ask." 

"Oh _I'm _sorry. Next time I'll consider how _you're _feeling when I ask a question."

"Right," Tom began to shut the door. "By then."

"Ohhhh no, " Harry pried the door open. "You're not going back in there without explaining yourself."

"Fine. Come in."

"I'm not going in there!"

"Well, if we argue in the hall, everyone will hear."

Harry considered things for a moment and then said, "Oh all right. But if you try anything…"

"I'm not going to—remember, I'm a good person now." Harry glared at him and they both went inside. "Tea?" Tom asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

At this point, Harry almost grinned, "You're beginning to sound like Dumbledore," he said.

Tom shuddered and then said, "If you say that one more time, I _will_ kill you."

"I thought you were going to be nice," Harry said.

"I didn't say nice – I said good. And I'm only being good because I was bored and needed a change in my life. I refuse to _ever_ be nice, unless I really mean it. But I doubt that I ever will."

"Good people _are_ nice." said Harry. 

"Are they? Oh dear, I never considered that." Tom looked contemplative for a moment before saying, "I suppose I won't _do _bad things, but I might say them."

Deciding to get back to business, Harry said, "So you're saying that the only reason that you're here, at Hogwarts, and being nice is because you were bored?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, why do you look like Tom Riddle instead of Voldemort?"

"I'd chalk that up to Wormtail's incompetence. Not that I mind, of course, incase you haven't noticed, I'm gorgeous."

Harry looked like he was taking this in but then a strange look of anger crossed his face and he said, "That's it! I'm leaving. I refuse to have a civil conversation with the _creature_ who killed my parents and has been trying to kill me all sixteen years of my life!"

"Goodness, you're sixteen now? My, my, time certainly does fly."

"Argh!" Harry exclaimed as he stormed out the door.

Tom chuckled and then glanced over at the hourglass on his nightstand, "Oh dear," he said. "It's past time for breakfast." He walked down to the Great Hall and sat at the Slytherin table. Most of the people at the table turned to look at him, mildly curious about the new student. Only Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle knew that he was Voldemort – or Tom Riddle, for that matter. He hadn't been introduced to anyone yet. 

"Oh look!" Draco said, seeing Tom, "It's the former Dark Lord! Guess you don't know how to control your Death Eaters, eh Tommy?" Apparently he had recovered from his earlier fear of his father's, to say the least, boss. 

"What on earth are you talking about, Draco?" asked Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting next to the irritating blonde lad. 

"Yes, please enlighten us," Tom said.

"Never mind," Draco muttered, deciding it best to save the teasing for when everyone knew whom the new student was. 

"Draco," whispered Crabbe, "you shouldn't tease He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He could kill you."

"The way I see it," Draco whispered back, "is that anyone who sticks up for Harry Potter deserves to be teased." Obviously Draco was still sore about the little incident in the hall earlier that morning. "And besides," he continued, "seeing as how he's turned back to his sixteen year old self and is now attending Hogwarts, he's as good as defeated." A smug look developed on his face before he said, "My father is about to take over the Death Eaters shortly and then we'll see who's the most powerful wizard in the world."

Tom, who had heard this entire exchange, (due to his acute hearing) quietly said, so that only Draco could hear, "I couldn't care less about your father trying to take my place. He can bloody well have the Death Eaters if he wants them. They're completely incompetent. Why don't you go sit at a different table? The sound of your voice is making me lose my appetite."

"Why don't _you_ sit at another table? I've been sitting here all year."

"Where should I sit! I'm the Heir of Slytherin, for Christ's sake. I'm not sitting anywhere else."

"Neither am I."

"Fine. You and Pansy switch places. That way she can be between us."

"Oh alright." 

After a great deal of shuffling they were finally free of each other and Tom was able to get back to his meal. That is, until Dumbledore stood up and said, "Students, we have a new student," then he paused, reflecting on the stupidity of that sentence. "His name is Tom Riddle, but you probably know him as Lord Voldemort. Let's give him a warm round of applause as welcome to Hogwarts."

Needless to say, no one clapped. Well, actually there was one person who started to clap, and then quickly stopped. But for the most part, Dumbledore's welcoming speech was met by a shocked, frightened silence. 'Oh brilliant,' thought Tom, 'he just had to tell everyone who I am.' He decided not to dwell on the fact that everyone hated him and began to eat his breakfast of half a grapefruit. 

A/N: sorry this was really short.


	3. Tom goes to class

Read for suggestions on how to have your name appear _in print_ at the beginning of a chapter.

A/N: after reading the part where Tom tries to decide the best way to annoy Harry, let me know which way I should use in an upcoming chapter. Or, if you're like me and you think that none of those suggestions are particularly good, tell me some better ones and I'll try to use them. I always give credit when I use someone's suggestions so if you want to see your pseudonym in fancy typed letters at the top of a page in my story, let me know. And include a suggestion – or, I suppose, if you're really desperate to see your name in print, I could just type your name into the top of the page. But you have to tell me how fantastic I am first. There are thirteen Mary Sue's with the same first name as me. This makes me wildly depressed, as Mary Sue's always have really stupid made-up sounding names. 

After breakfast, Tom decided to go to his first class. Obviously, it was potions. As he was walking to class, he reflected on the monstrous injustice of him having to go to class. In fact, he was so busy reflecting on this that he walked straight into a first year. "Watch where you're going," he muttered out of habit, failing to notice the eleven-year-old bursting into tears and running away as quickly as he possible could. He also didn't notice the way the crowd parted for him when he continued walking. However, he did notice when Draco Malfoy threw Neville's toad at his head. 

"Ooh, what are you going to do, _Voldemort?_ Haven't got your Death Eaters to protect you now, have you?"

"I don't need my Death Eaters," Tom replied, watching Neville scurry away, his toad clenched protectively in his arms. "You, on the other hand, are pathetic with or without those…gelatinous masses," he gestured to Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, it's been nice, but I have class." He walked passed Draco and continued down the hall. After a moment, he found himself along side of Harry Potter. "Hello Harry," he said. 

Harry ignored him and continued walking, followed by Hermione and a rather terrified looking Ron. Tom chuckled to himself, thinking that going to school with Harry Potter was his best idea yet. He had created infinite possibilities for getting on the Gryffindor's nerves. Feeling very excited about this, he began to plot. 'Hmm,' he thought, 'I could somehow convince Dumbledore that Harry and I need to share a room…but then I'd have to _share a room _with him. Dear Lord, that would be dreadful, but I suppose if I thought it was really worth it I could make a go of it.' He continued to ponder, 'I could convince his friends to be my friends instead…that would be devilish. Or…I could turn all of his schoolbooks into parrots. No, too stupid.' Tom was beginning to think that this would be a little bit harder than he expected. 'Damn, I'm the greatest, not to mention most evil, wizard in the whole, entire world! I should be able to think of some way to _annoy_ Harry Potter. I did kill his parents, for Christ's sake. You'd think this would be a little bit easier.' By this time he was extremely put out. He was also standing in front of the door to the Potions classroom. He pushed it open and stalked over to his desk. 

Everyone in the class was waiting breathlessly to see if Snape would dare comment on Voldemort's tardiness. Most of them felt that he wouldn't but some thought he would. The emotions were running rather high on the topic, particularly because some rather large bets had been placed on the question before class. 

You may wonder how people knew that Tom was going to be late for class before it even started. I am, however, not going to tell you. Partly because you're a rather boring person if you care, and partly because I haven't the slightest idea. 

Ignoring his pupil's wide eyes and strange choking sounds (from holding their breath so long), Snape said, "Mr. Riddle, would you care to tell the class what was so important that it kept you from us for such a long time."

"Oh _come on_, Snape," said Tom, "that has got to be the _oldest_ way to ask a student why they're late in the history of schools, no, the history of learning. Christ, I remember one of my professors in the nineteen-forties used to ask me that question. Actually, all of them did. Not only is that question old, it's overused as well."

Snape looked very irritated. "Detention!" he shrieked. 

Tom rolled his eyes and sat down, not failing to notice the conflicted look on Harry's face. 

Harry, of course, was conflicted because he hated Snape and loved to see someone get the better of him in any verbal sparring that might arise. However, he also hated Tom Riddle, oh, the difficulties of one's enemies fighting with one's other enemies! 

Soon, class was underway and Tom was insanely bored. The last straw came when Snape announced that they were going to make a potion that would restore old plants. "Do I have to?" asked Tom.

"Are you in this class," Snape asked.

"Obviously."

"Well then, as long as that's settled, yes, you do."

"Are you joking?" Tom asked. "Because incase you weren't paying attention at all those Death Eater meetings, you know, before you betrayed me, I am the most powerful wizard in the world! Why should I waste my time making ridiculous plant restoratives? As if anyone cares whether plants die or not."

"I believe it was your decision to come back to Hogwarts…."

"Yes, but only for the amusement of it. I had no intention of debasing myself like this." 

"Debasing yourself!" Snape was livid. "That's it! Get out of this class!"

Tom chuckled delightfully and left. He soon found himself wandering down a particularly long hallway. "Good Lord, I forgot how long these hallways are." He continued walking, regretting it with every step, until he reached his room. 

A/N: heh heh, this chapter is even shorter than the last one. I had been saving it for a few days because I was planning on writing more but I just couldn't think of anymore plot and so I decided to post it anyway. 


	4. an astonishingly dim snake and friendshi...

A/N: Wicked Lee thought of Harry and Tom sharing a dorm and suggested that Tom could steal a girl Harry likes. So far, I only have the girl stealing in thought form and I don't know if Tom will actually do it. 

The next day Harry was summoned into Dumbledore's office. After being offered thirty-five varieties of sweets he sat down and asked, "What is it, Headmaster?"

"I've decided," Dumbledore began, "that you and Tom must share a dorm."

Harry, who was sipping tea at the time, said, "Mphrlack!" 

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore chuckled, "I can see why you'd be upset – sharing a room with your arch nemesis, the man who killed your family and has been trying to kill you all sixteen years of your life – but Tom is a changed person. I believe in him."

"That's all _wonderful_," Harry said, trying to keep his voice level, "but why do I have to share a room with him?"

"Well, he's been having a bit of difficulty getting along with the other students…."

"Maybe because he's evil," Harry interrupted.

"…And it would really help him to have someone looking out for him. You know, making sure he doesn't get into fights and things like that." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. 

Harry passed out. 

Awhile later, the brown haired Gryffindor wearing a shirt awoke to see Tom Riddle jabbing him in the arm with an incredibly long stick. "What are you doing?" gasped Harry.

"Well, I wouldn't want to use a _short_ stick, would I?" Tom said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Harry decided not to pursue the matter and went back to sleep.

'Delightful,' thought Tom, as he stared menacingly at the sleeping, bespectacled humanoid character. 'Now that we're sharing a room, I can bother him more than I ever thought possible. But wait—I said I wouldn't do bad things!' he thought for a moment. 'Oh well, I _am_ evil.' He chuckled and then began thinking of other ways to annoy Harry, 'Hmm,' he began, 'I could arrange for him to walk in on me "getting to know" a girl he really likes…that would be spectacular. Who does Harry like? The only person I can think of is Cho Chang. But do I want to do anything with her?' He thought about it for five minutes, then decided, 'No…she's too whiny.' He pondered a bit more, 'And she probably wouldn't like me because I killed her boyfriend. Damn! Why does this have to be so hard?' By this time, Tom was feeling incredibly depressed. He went over to the kitchenette and fixed himself a nice, hot cup of chai. Soon he was feeling much better, much better indeed. 

It was at this point that Harry woke up. He stretched sleepily and then began to look around. It was quite amusing for Tom to watch the bipedal creature, wrapped up in the obliviousness of just waking up, begin to look around and see that he was in a strange room. Soon his eyes fell upon Tom and he said, "Yaghah!" 

"My," said Tom, "You're certainly not one for the use of actual words, are you?"

Harry glared at him but the effect was destroyed by the pillow marks covering the left side of his face, not that it would have frightened Tom in the slightest anyway (lest we forget – he _is_ the Dark Lord). 

Tom giggled and said, "Isn't it time for lunch?" 

"Yes," muttered Harry angrily. 

They went down to the great hall and sat at their tables. Harry was indescribably glad to be away from Tom for the entire lunch period. However, his joy was quickly dampened by the appearance of Snape. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Why aren't you at the staff table?"

"Oh…you know," said Snape vaguely.

"Er…no, sorry," said Harry, wishing he were somewhere else. 

"Detention, Potter," Snape glared at Harry menacingly. "Oh, I just thought of something very amusing," he said after a pause. 

Harry was really dreading finding out what the bitter Potions professor found amusing. It was probably something sadistic. 

"…You have detention at the same time as your despicable nemesis and roommate," Snape paused for drama and then continued unnecessarily, "Tom Riddle." 

"Oh," said Harry, thinking how great it would be if he were dead. 

Snape walked away, chuckling sinisterly. (A/N: if anyone can think of anymore synonyms for devilishly, menacingly, etc…please let me know). 

Ron and Hermione gave Harry several sympathetic looks. Over the years (what with their proximity to Harry) they had brought giving sympathetic looks to an art form. Hermione had at least seventeen distinct ones and Ron had about fifteen and a half. Of course, none of them did Harry any good, but he let them keep it up because he didn't want them to feel useless. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tom was feeling a bit under the weather. He didn't really want to go to detention that night, as he wasn't particularly fond of Snape. Perhaps it had something to do with his betrayal? More likely, it was because of his greasy hair. Tom just couldn't fathom how the man could so thoroughly neglect his hair. Tom unconsciously ran a hand through his own hair, as if to reassure himself that it was still as clean and soft as always. He smiled to himself, thinking that if his hair ever turned out like Snape's, there was always suicide. Or shaving it off, but that would be positively hideous. 'No…' he thought, 'suicide would be better.' He sighed softly and went back to his pudding. It was butterscotch, king among puddings. Unless you count rice. Tom began to ponder, trying to decide which was better: butterscotch or rice pudding. Then he remembered Flan…and then he remembered who he was and decided to stop debating pudding in his head. 'Wait,' he thought, 'is Flan pudding or just Flan?' Then he decided that he didn't care and went to his room to study. 

Soon, however, his studying was interrupted by Harry walking into the room and saying, "Oh. You." 

"What? Surprised to see me in my own room, are you?" said Tom.

"It's not _your_ room," Harry reminded him.

"Oh, I forgot," said Tom, "_our_ room."

Harry shuddered and retrieved his books. 

"You know," said Tom, "you're going to have to adjust to being around me a lot of the time."

"I hate you," said Harry.

"Yes, yes, we've been over that, but I'm really not such a bad guy once you get to know me."

"You're a murderer!"

"I'm surprised that you're still hung up on that."

Harry was too shocked and furious for words so, instead of responding, he dashed out of the room. 

Tom shook his head, wondering when Harry would get over all the silliness. He decided not to dwell on it and went over to the mirror to comb his hair. "You know," he said to a snake who happened to be curled up in the corner of the room (for plot purposes [i.e. I don't want Tom to be talking to himself]). "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm bored and combing my hair just isn't doing it for me." 

"Perhaps you should find something more stimulating," said the snake.

"It doesn't take a genius to think that up," Tom said. 

"Don't get all snippy with me," the snake warned, "I'm the only one you have to talk to…no one else likes you here."

"Obviously," said Tom.

"Maybe," continued the snake, "you should teach them a lesson."

"Oh?"

"Start killing people who go against you, then everyone will be forced to be your friend."

Tom frowned, "Are you trying to tempt me over to the dark side?"

"No…no," said the snake unconvincingly.

"Yes you are," said Tom.

"Well, maybe a little bit," the snake conceded, "but I'm only trying to be a good snake. You know, like in the Bible."

"Well, unfortunately for you," Tom said, "you're astonishingly dim."

"What do you mean?" the outraged snake gasped.

"I'm Lord Voldemort. I'm already _on _the dark side, in fact, you might even say I _personify_ the dark side. I hardly need your advice." 

"Oh," said the snake disappointedly, "I'll just be going then."

"Bye," said Tom, watching the snake slither away. 

"Who were you just talking to?" asked Pansy Parkinson, wandering into the room.

"How did you get in here?" asked Tom, ignoring her question.

"The door was open," she said.

"Damn Potter," Tom muttered.

"Yes," said Pansy, "so what are you doing, just staring in the mirror?"

"Yeah."

"Fun," she said, with out a trace of sarcasm.

"Want to join me?" he asked.

"Sure," she said brightly and skipped over to the mirror where Tom was standing. "So…" she said, "how's it going?"

Tom realized that he was going to have to make polite conversation with the girl so he said, "Fine."

"Good…" Pansy tried to think of more to say. "Do you like butterscotch pudding?"

Tom gasped, "Yes! How did you know?"

"I was just making conversation!" she said excitedly, "and I love talking about pudding!"

"So do I, but you can never tell anyone I said that."

"I won't, as long as you don't tell anyone about my love for pudding either."

"I won't." There was a happy pause and then Tom said, "Want to go to the Hogshead and get some?"

"Of course!" she said and they went off. You might wonder why they weren't in class. Your question can be easily answered by remembering that we're talking about Pansy Parkinson and Tom Riddle. They don't always have the greatest respect for the rules. 

Soon they were at the little shop, eating pudding. "This pudding is so good," said Pansy.

"Yes," said Tom. After eating for a few moments he looked over at Pansy and said, "So…I suppose you've heard about the dance Hogwarts is having…."

"Er, no, I haven't."

"Oh. Well, there is one. They just haven't announced it yet."

"Oh."

"So, do you want to go with me?" Tom smiled charmingly.

"Sure," she smiled back and then fell off her chair. 

"Oh dear," said Tom, helping her up. 

"Aww," said the Scottish bartender, "you two look so cute…on your little date."

Tom glared at him, causing the Scotsman to duck behind the counter. "Hehe, I've still got my old 'glare powers,'" Tom said to Harry. Then he said, "Harry…what are you doing here?"

"Erm, nothing. I was just, you know, popping by."

"I see," said Tom, then he caught a glimpse of red hair behind the coat rack, "with Ron?"

"Yes. Well, we just umm…were in the mood for butterbeer."

"In the middle of class?"

"Tom," said Pansy, "the only reason they would skip class is to 'fight the forces of darkness.' It's common knowledge."

"Is this true?" Tom asked Harry.

"Well, yes…." 

"It's true," said Ron, "We thought you were up to no good."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Hermione told us not to," Ron continued.

"At least she has some sense," said Tom.

"Harry," Ron whispered loudly, "I think we should leave."

"Yeah, looks like Tom has no time for danger," Harry said. "He's too busy asking out girls."

Tom rolled his eyes, "Come on Pansy. Let's get out of here."

"Ok," she said, and they left. 


	5. Pansy and Tom Plot

A/N: (Caitlin—she requested her name in fancy typed letters and called the story awesome). Letylyf reminded me about having Ginny show up at some point. 

Soon Tom and Pansy found themselves outdoors. "So…" the blonde girl began (a/n: I can't remember what color her hair is, so in this story she's blonde), "are we, like, going out?"

Tom's eyes widened. "Well, the thing is…we could…but I don't really like being touched, you know, human contact. It's so…ugh."

"Oh," she seemed mildly disappointed, "so just friends then?"

"Yeah, that'd be best," Tom replied. Then he said, "Why don't we go shopping?"

"Ok," said Pansy. 

They went shopping. 

"Oh, look at that shirt, Tom," Pansy said when they had entered a store that sold shirts and things. "You've got to buy it. It would look adorable on you."

"I think you're right," said Tom. He went over and looked at it. It was a black, knit long sleeved shirt with a collar and about three buttons at the top. He decided to purchase it and while he was at the counter began to make idle chit chat with the clerk. "So…" he said, "that's an interesting name tag you've got there. Did you buy it second hand?"

"No, why?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. It just looks sort of raggedy."

Pansy giggled at the clerk's offended expression. As she giggled, she turned slightly and saw a familiar red haired person. Well, actually two redheads, a bushy haired—oh for Christ's sake—she saw Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. "Oh look," she said, "how sad. Their clothes don't match."

Tom smirked, turning towards the fellow Hogwarts attendees, "Doesn't anybody go to class anymore? Why, when I went to Hogwarts—the first time—if you weren't in class, the consequences were awful."

"Maybe that's why you turned into a sadistic bastard," said Ron angrily. 

"Maybe," Tom chuckled. Then, "How hello…G—Guiseppe?"

"Ginny," the red haired girl corrected.

"Ah yes. I haven't seen you since you were in…first year?"

"Yes," she seemed surprisingly happy that he remembered. 

Tom could see that she still had the remnants of a crush on him, even if she did try to hide it. Knowing this, he said, "You seemed like such a little girl then. You still do, really."

She looked disappointed. "So…is Pansy your girlfriend then?"

"Yes," Tom said smoothly. "Adorable, isn't she?"

"What?" Pansy said.

"Shh," said Tom discreetly.

"Are you two going to the dance together?" Ginny asked.

"What dance?" asked Tom. Then he said, "Oh yes, we are."

Harry was getting impatient. It was obvious that Ginny—for whatever reason—still fancied Tom a bit. It was only lucky that Ron was so thick about things like that, otherwise he'd be furious. "Ginny," he said, "will you please stop chatting with _Voldemort_ so that we can leave."

"Of course," she said, looking a little flustered. The four Gryffindors walked away quickly.

When Tom and Pansy were alone once more, Pansy said, "Tom, I thought a moment ago you said that we weren't a couple, and now you're telling people we are?"

"I know, I know, but I wanted to make Ginny jealous, and also – did you see the way Harry was gazing at me? I want to make sure he keeps his hands off me. Not to mention the little Malfoy, he's worse than his father."

"So we're going to pretend to go out?" Pansy was feeling very slightly overwhelmed. 

"You don't mind, do you?" Tom asked.

"No, I suppose not," she said, beginning to feel better about the whole thing. 

"Excellent. Why don't we get some ice cream." Tom and Pansy walked off to a random ice cream store and ordered the kind of ice cream they wanted (don't you love these filler sentences?). 

Soon they were sitting down and Pansy said, "I can't wait to go dress shopping for the dance! I know exactly what color I'm going to get – lavender! It's going to be so fabulous, I'll have matching eye shadow, of course, and…oh! The shoes!" 

'Why don't we go shopping right now," Tom suggested.

"Really? Tom, you're the best!" She jumped up and ran in the direction of the nearest dress shop. Tom followed amusedly. 

After about six hours, when Pansy had exhausted most of the possibilities of dresses and Tom had begun to seriously regret going shopping with her, she decided on a suitable one (lavender—of course). "Tomorrow we can go shopping for makeup," she said, as they walked back to Hogwarts. 

This made Tom feel ever so slightly suicidal. "Wonderful," he said, "I'm really looking forward to it."

Pansy ignored his sarcasm and said, "Tom, do you have anywhere to go for Christmas?"

"No, I was just planning on staying at school."

"Oh no, you mustn't, you've got to stay at our estate. Mother and Father would be so happy to meet you."

"They already have," Tom reminded her, thinking back to his recent days as the Dark Lord.

"Oh yes, they've met you as You-Know-Who, but not as Tom. They'll love you as Tom. And it would make them very happy to think that I have a steady boyfriend."

"Well…I am astoundingly charming…" Tom was beginning to be swayed by her reasoning.

"Yes, exactly," she said, recognizing that she was effectively persuading him. 

"Oh alright. I suppose it can't be that bad. And at least it'll keep me away from Harry over the holiday. I understand that it must be very difficult for him to be falling in love with the person who killed his parents, but he could at least show some decorum and not stare at me all the time."

"Er, yes," said Pansy. She wasn't exactly sure that Harry _was_ in love with Tom, but she decided to humor him. "You would be much safer at my house." 

"The only thing is, though, will we be seeing Draco? I know how the Malfoys and Parkinsons are friends," said Tom bitterly. 

"Perhaps. But does it matter? Surely you can handle Draco…you certainly have before."

"Yes, you're right." Tom was feeling much better about everything by this time. They spent the rest of the walk back to Hogwarts discussing what Pansy would wear to the dance. The conversation was becoming rather dull when Tom was suddenly struck by an idea. "Pansy!" he said. "You've got to let me do your hair."

"What? Now?" she asked.

"Yes! It'll be so wonderful." He was becoming rather giddy. 

"Ok…" she said. "Come on." 

They went up to the Slytherin girls' dormitory and somehow got in. "How did I get in here?" Tom asked once they were inside.

"Oh, you know…" said Pansy.

"No," said Tom. "No I don't."

Pansy looked worried for a moment and then seemed to collect her thoughts. "Well, I said the password, didn't I?"

"Yes, but this is the girls dorm. You'd think they'd try to keep boys out," Tom argued. 

"Not as much as you might think," said Pansy.

"I see," said Tom, deciding that he didn't really care anymore. "Why don't you sit down over there," he said gesturing to a chair by a mirror, "and I'll get the hair supplies."

"All right," she sat down. "Oh, the hair things are in that drawer," she pointed to a drawer in the nightstand next to her bed. 

"Wonderful," said Tom, taking them out and setting to work on her hair. "So…" he said after a few moments, "I was trying to think of a way to annoy Harry. Can you think of anything?"

"Oh that sounds fabulous," Pansy grinned. "It's too bad you and Draco don't get along. Annoying Harry is one of his favorite pastimes." Seeing Tom's glare at the mention of Draco, she decided to quickly move on, "So have you thought of any ideas yet?"

"Yes, but most of them are…" he was going to say stupid but realized that, as Lord Voldemort, he shouldn't call any of his plans stupid, "unsuitable," he concluded the sentence. "There was one, for example, that involved me seducing a girl Harry likes and then arranging for him to catch us in a compromising situation. Unfortunately, that won't work for two reasons. Firstly, because I'm pretending to go out with you, and pretending to go out with someone else at the same time would just be hopelessly complicated. And secondly, because what girl could Harry possibly like when he so completely in love with me?"

"Those are all good points," Pansy frowned. "I think we'll have to think about this one for awhile." She paused and then gasped, "You know what we need? A notebook to organize this!"

"That's brilliant!" said Tom. Then, "Oh, Draco will be so jealous when he finds out what we're planning!" 

"What are you planning?" asked the blonde person Tom had just mentioned, walking over to where they were standing.

"How did you get in here?" asked Tom.

"The Slytherin girls' dorm is really easy to get into," Draco explained.

"Oh yeah," said Tom. Then he decided to gloat a bit, "We're planning to annoy Harry more than anyone ever has before!"

"Don't you think you've already accomplished that?" asked Draco. "What with killing his parents and all that."

"No, no, you're confusing 'annoying' with 'making incredibly depressed.'"

"Oh. Damn you!" Draco was becoming upset. "That's my job!"

"Not anymore," laughed Tom. "Looks like all you've got now is your prestigious family."

Draco opened his mouth and raised a finger, but then dashed off without speaking. 

Tom turned to Pansy, smiling happily, "This is turning out to be more fun than I ever thought possible. I'm killing two birds with one stone."

"Yes," said Pansy, "everything is turning out splendidly."

Tom just stood there, brushing her hair and grinning for a few minutes before saying, "Your hair is so soft and smooth."

"Thank you," she replied, "I brush it for fifteen minutes every night."

"That's amazing. It's also very long and thick. You're very lucky."

"You're such a sweetheart, Tom."

Tom looked as if Pansy had just danced into the room wearing clothes from a second-hand store, "No one's ever said that to me before," he said. 

"I'd say that I'm surprised but I just can't."

"I understand." He went back to brushing her hair until he saw a notebook on her desk. "Will this notebook do?" he asked, picking it up.

"Yes, all I have to do is decorate it and it'll be perfect," she seemed immensely pleased with the prospect of decorating the notebook. "So have you made any progress at all in bothering him?" she asked, returning to their discussion of ways to annoy Harry.

"Well, I'm sharing a dorm with him." Tom smiled devilishly, "It's just the two of us."

"Brilliant. That's a wonderful head start." Pansy had already begun to put pink glitter on the notebook. 

"Yes, planning evil things has always been a strong point of mine."

"I'd say so." She paused for a moment and bent over the notebook, adding a few finishing touches. "Look," she said, holding it up. It was very pink and purple and glittery. At the top she had painted the title, "Ways to Annoy Harry Potter," in blue with little stars surrounding the words. 

Tom looked at it appraisingly. "It certainly is a change from the old 'Dark Lord' organizational notebooks I used to make my first time through Hogwarts, but it's lovely all the same." 

"Of course," Pansy said smugly. "I've always had the prettiest notebooks in the whole school."

"Harry's going to be so upset when we do whatever we plan on doing!" 

Seeing the gleam in Tom's eye, Pansy almost thought he was about to start cackling. Fortunately, he didn't. 

A/N: I'd better stop. It's 2:30 am and I have band practice tomorrow so I need to sleep…eventually. (In response to the person who felt bad for me for having to go to band practice, it's not marching band practice. I'm the lead singer and guitarist in a rock band called Nigel)

Oh, if any one wants me to beta a story, they can email me at plasticandelastic@hotmail.com 


	6. Phase One

A/N: The thing Tom and Pansy do to annoy Harry in this chapter is based on a suggestion from Hyperbole.

The next morning, at breakfast, Tom was busily writing a note. 

"Who's the note for?" asked Pansy, feeling mildly curious. 

"Harry," Tom replied. "Don't you remember what we discussed last night? You wrote it in the notebook."

She took a minute to think and then said, "Ah yes. I remember now." 

"Good," he said distractedly as he sealed the envelope. Then he said softly, almost as if to himself, "Fergus."

"Fergus?" asked Pansy.

"My owl," Tom explained. Just then, a black owl came swooping over to where they were seated and settled itself on the table in front of Tom. "Hello Fergus," the Dark Lord murmured to the feathery creature as he tied the note to its leg. "Take this to Harry."

The owl hooted in a very official tone before flying across the room to the Gryffindor table and giving the note to Harry Potter.

Pansy laughed quietly at the absurdity of summoning the owl to deliver a note to someone in the same room, but decided not to say anything about it to Tom. She knew that he wouldn't see anything odd about it. 

When Harry noticed the owl flying towards him, he wasn't particularly taken aback. He got letters from people now and then, and of course, he had no way of knowing that the owl had come from across the room. That is, he would have had a way of knowing if he had happened to turn around and look over there, but he didn't. Thanking the owl politely, he took the note and read it. It said:

Dear Harry, __

Come to the Astronomy Tower tonight at eleven thirty-six. 

-T. R. 

Harry was astounded. Silently, he handed the note to Hermione, hoping that she could help him sort it out. 

"Well, what about it?" she asked when she had finished reading it.

"Don't you find it strange?"

"I suppose…but it's not _that_ out of the ordinary for someone to ask to meet you somewhere at night. Do you know whose initials those are?"

"I have no idea," Harry said, trying to make a list in his head of all the people he knew, wondering which one could possibly have sent the note. 

Meanwhile, Tom was deviously sipping his orange juice, watching the confused expression on Harry's face. "What a moron," he said to Pansy. "You'd think he'd be able to figure out that those are my initials. We share a room for Christ's sake!"

"Yes, well, he never _was _the brightest coin in the fountain," Pansy replied. "What I want to know is," she said, moving on, "why do you need to meet him in the Astronomy Tower when you two share a room?"

"Oh I don't know…drama? Actually, it's more likely that I'm only doing it for the amusement of seeing such a confused look on his face. All the times we met when I was more Voldemort-y, he looked so _determined_. It gets bloody boring after awhile, seeing the same facial expression over and over."

"Yes, I know what you mean. Have you ever seen Millicent? She always has this stupid dense look on her face, like she never has any idea what I'm talking about. It doesn't matter what I say. It could be anything from, 'Your mother's a whore,' to, 'What do you think of this shade of eye shadow on me?'" 

Tom chuckled, "And apparently it doesn't matter that she's sitting right next to you?"

"Not likely." Pansy waved her hand in front of Millicent's face and, getting no reaction from the large girl, said, "See?"

Tom laughed again, "Reminds me of Crabbe and Goyle."

Pansy giggled, "Maybe they're triplets separated at birth."

Tom smiled, sipping his orange juice, "I can't wait for tonight. It's going to be so hilarious."

"I know. You've got to let me watch."

"Of course, I'd hate to be the only one to witness it." 

Just then mountainous Millicent said, "Hey! I'm sitting right here!"

"She speaks!" gasped Tom, as Pansy dissolved into a fit of laughter. 

* * * 

That night, at eleven thirty-six, Tom was waiting patiently in the Astronomy Tower for Harry Potter, while Pansy hid behind…a telescope. Soon, their waiting was put to an end by the arrival of the dark haired person with the glasses and the shirt and the green "orbs". 

"Is anyone here?" Harry asked. 

Tom emerged from the shadow's saying, "Hello, Harry. I'm so glad you came."

"You!" the Gryffindor gasped.

"Yes, you see, I have a confession to make: I'm completely in love with you," he ignored Harry's outraged expression. "You have no idea what it's been like for me, all these years, knowing that you've hated me even though I've loved you with all my heart, soul, and…body."

"Soul?" Harry scoffed. Then his mind traveled to the next two words in that sentence and he wanted to vomit with rage.

"Of course," said Tom. "How could you think that I don't have a soul?"

"You kill people all the time…"

"Not _all _the time."

"…You aren't nice to anyone…"

"I'd be nice to you, if you'd let me."

"You killed my parents!"

"You always bring that up!" 

"It's very important to me!"

Tom rolled his eyes, "But if we could just look past our differences, we could be happy…together. Forever." He resisted the urge to laugh menacingly at the end of the sentence. 

"Gah! I don't want to be with you forever!"

"But Harry—" Tom was cut short by the fact that Harry dashed from the room. 

A moment later Pansy stepped out from behind the telescope and said, "That was absolutely the most fabulous thing I have ever, in all my life, seen!"

"I just can't wait for tomorrow morning. If all goes well, it could be the best part."

"Yes, and there's no reason for it not to go well, what with your brilliance at evil plans."

"I'm pretty sure I couldn't have done it without you."

Pansy was surprised, to say the least. She almost didn't hear the compliment, Tom said it so quickly and quietly, but she was definitely sure he had said it. "Do my ears deceive me?" she said, almost mockingly, unable to believe that the most vain, arrogant person she had ever met had just said that he couldn't have done something without her.

Tom glared at her and left the room. 

* * * 

The following day quickly arrived and the residents of Hogwarts soon found themselves at breakfast. Tom saw Harry for the first time since last night just outside the Great Hall when the magically adept lad came storming over to him. "Where were you last night," Tom asked.

"I slept in the regular boy's dorm. There's no reason for me to share a room with you, especially when you're acting so strangely."

"What on earth are you talking about?" 

"Yes, do tell," implored Pansy, who happened to be standing next to Tom.

"Y-you know," said Harry, "your 'confession' last night."

"I still have no idea what you're going on about," Tom said, irritably pushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into his eye. 

"Yes you do! You said that you loved me!"

"Oh dear, Harry, this is starting to sound like a run in with…what's her name…?"

"How should I know?" Harry said impatiently. "The point is, you said that you wanted to spend your life with me."

"Harry, I understand that you might have had a strange dream about me, almost everyone does, but to think that it was real? Quite frankly, that worries me. Also, next time you have a dream about me, try not to talk about it in front of my girlfriend. She so hates that." And with that, Tom swept into the Great Hall.

Pansy smirked at Harry and said, "Sorry, love," before turning and following Tom. 


	7. Tom Wins Mrs Parkinson's Approval

A few days later, Pansy and Tom found themselves standing outside the Parkinson estate. "Well, here we are," said Pansy, gesturing across the grounds. "Monstrous old thing, isn't it?"

"I don't know – it is rather pretty," Tom said. 

"Wait until you meet Mother and Father." She knocked on the door and a house elf answered, followed shortly by her parents.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson," said Tom. 

They both said hello. Next, Mrs. Parkinson said, "What's your name, young man, Pansy has told us nothing about you."

"Tom, Tom Riddle."

"Hmm," she sniffed, "that's a rather common name, don't you think dear?" She turned to her husband.

Mr. Parkinson shifted uncomfortably.

Pansy could tell that Tom was trying very hard not to say anything particularly cruel to her mother and she was glad for that. However, she knew that if she didn't say something quickly, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from using his laconic wit. "_I_ think it's a lovely name," she said. "Come on, Tom, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

When they reached the guest bedroom, Tom said, "I'm trying very hard, for your sake, to be nice, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to keep it up."

"I know, I appreciate it. But don't worry, I'm sure she'll love you in no time."

"Dear Lord, I can't believe I've been reduced to trying to get people's parents to love me."

"Cheer up, they won't even be around most of the time. Now, I have some candy I think you'll really like."

"Bribing me with candy is not going to work," Tom frowned. 

"Yes…" Pansy appeared thoughtful for a moment before saying, "Perhaps we should do our hair."

"That's always good to do in a pinch."

"Well, that's something my mother told me. Maybe you will grow to like her."

Just then some random person popped their head into the room, saying, "The Malfoys are coming to dinner tonight, so dress accordingly."

When the person was gone, Tom shuddered. 

"Do you think Lucius will recognize you and tell my parents?" Pansy asked.

Tom thought about it and said, "I'd really prefer it if he didn't… So, let's say no."

Pansy wasn't sure if that was the best way to go about solving the question. "Are you sure about that?" she asked. 

"Look," said Tom impatiently, "do you _want_ to think about it? It won't help."

"You do have a point," she conceded. 

"I always have a point. Now, come on, let me braid your hair." What Tom neglected to mention was that Lucius Malfoy had been the second person to see him in his younger body since the transformation had been made. And, as that was rather recently, and quite an interesting moment for Malfoy, there was no chance in hell that he wouldn't recognize him.

* * * 

That evening, Pansy and Tom were sitting in the drawing room when they heard the doorbell ring. "That must be the Malfoys," Pansy said.

"Yes," Tom sighed unhappily. The room was soon filled with Lucius, Draco, and Narcissa Malfoy, as well as Pansy's parents. They each took a seat and commenced the pre-dinner polite conversation. 

"So," Lucius said, sounding rather suspicious, "Tom Riddle, is it?"

"Yes," said Tom.

"That name sounds familiar." 

"Oh?" said Tom.

"Yes…" said Lucius. 

"Father," said Draco, "remember how I told you all about Tom being You-Know-Who?"

"Oh yes," said the elder Malfoy. Then he said, "Wait a minute! I've already seen him like this."

"I was waiting for you to figure that out, Lucius," Tom said amusedly.

"Why didn't you tell me that he knew already?" Pansy asked.

"I don't know. I suppose I just wanted to get right to doing our hair and not have to bother with excess words," was the reply. 

Mrs. Parkinson decided that this was a rather uncomfortable turn of events for their pre-dinner polite conversation and so she said, "So, Pansy, Tom, how did you two meet?"

Tom's eyes lit up. Only Pansy (and Tom himself, I suppose) knew that it wasn't from the fond memories of a blossoming romance, but from his love for telling well crafted lies. "Well," he began, "it all started when I was walking through the library at Hogwarts," he knew that the trick to telling a good lie was to base it in truth as much as possible, but he felt that he was beyond such beginning tactics as that. "I was looking for something really wonderful for a report I was writing. It was about exotic mushrooms, incidentally. Unfortunately, I was having the devil of a time finding anything so I just started wandering about, searching for help. I had almost given up hope when I saw your daughter standing by the window, looking like a vision of an angel with her golden, shining hair and her purple clothes. The window was slightly opened, causing her hair to blow around, which was incredibly gorgeous. Her violet eyes seemed to light up the room…" 

"All right," Pansy interrupted, "I think we've heard enough of my beauty for one night."

"How could that ever be?" asked Tom, flashing an innocent expression her way, while batting his eyelashes in a most creepy manner.

"Just get on with the story," she sighed.

Tom grinned and said, "She walked over to me and said 'Can I help you find something?' I told her that I was looking for a rare book on the care of exotic mushrooms and, surprisingly enough, she knew just where to find one. Anyway, after she had taken me to the book and I had checked it out, I asked her if she'd like to go out for pudding that evening – to celebrate…"

"Oh…Pansy does love her pudding," Mr. Parkinson murmured.

"Yes, and so do I, so you can imagine, we hit it off immediately. In fact, while eating the pudding, we discovered that we had many other things in common as well and it's been true love ever since."

"How heartwarming," said Lucius coldly.

"You wouldn't understand," said Tom. "You and Narcissa met at a soiree, and we all know how boring _those_ are."

"It depends on the soiree," Lucius pouted. 

Tom rolled his eyes.

Mr. Parkinson sought to fill the awkward pause by saying, "Can I get anyone a drink?"

"I'll have a scotch. Neat," said Lucius. Narcissa and Mrs. Parkinson each had a glass of wine. Tom and Pansy had brandy. Mr. Parkinson had a Shirley Temple.

"Wonderful brandy," Tom said appreciatively. 

"Thank you," said Mr. Parkinson, "I bought it in Prague."

"That's fabulous," Tom said, not sounding like it was particularly fabulous. "How's the Shirley Temple?" he asked with a smirk. 

"Delightful," said Mr. Parkinson. "Oh, Draco, you don't have a drink. Would you like a Shirley Temple as well?"

Tom began to laugh insanely.

"No thank you," said Draco angrily.

Soon there was a pause, filled only by the sound of Tom's laughter.

Mrs. Parkinson turned to Mrs. Malfoy, trying to muddle through the awkward silence that had descended upon the group like the black plague of conversations, "So, Narcissa, how have your gardens been doing? I hear it's really not the year for roses."

"Yes, well, it's not as bad as last year. The real problem is the rabbits," Narcissa answered. 

"Yes, they're sneaky creatures." 

"I killed a rabbit once," Draco volunteered.

"Did you?" said Mrs. Parkinson unappreciatively.

"I stepped on it," Draco said.

Tom saw an opportunity to gain some approval from his "girlfriend's" mother. "You know, Mrs. Parkinson, I was walking through your garden earlier and it was absolutely lovely. Especially the lilac bushes. I've always been a connoisseur of lilacs but I've never seen any as amazing as yours."

"Why thank you, Tom dear. You must call me Violet – Mrs. Parkinson makes me sound so old and matronly."

"You don't _look_ old or matronly." 

Pansy gazed in awe at her mother practically beaming at Tom. It was the most insane thing she had ever seen. No boy she had brought home before had ever managed to win the approval of Mrs. Parkinson. She wished she had brought a camera, although, that _would_ ruin the moment. When she had finished gazing at her mother, she began to gaze at Tom. He had the most innocent grin she had ever seen on anyone. It was incredibly disturbing. 

* * * 

That night, after dinner, when Pansy and Tom were alone, she said, "That was brilliant what you said to my mother. The timing was perfect – the way you said it right after Draco finished being a moron…."

"Will he ever finish?" Tom asked rhetorically. 

"It heightened the contrast between the two of you: you being the charming, sweet one and he being the sadistic bastard. Our only problem is that now she'll want us to get married." 

Tom chuckled, "That would be amusing. I think a sham marriage might be fun, actually. As long as both parties knew that it was not to be taken seriously. Or as long as I wasn't the party who didn't."

"I suppose it would be. Well, if that ever happens, at least we're both ok with it."

"Yes. Well, I'd better get to bed."

"Me too. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

A/N: how'd you like the ending. Everyone does cliffhangers so I decided to do the polar opposite. 


	8. Tom Nonchalantly Proposes

A/N: ...and by ending, of course, I meant ending to the chapter... heh, heh. I never had any intention of ending the story. I'm so bored. If the lack of paragraph division between dialogue and so forth hasn't corrected itself before you read this, I apologize profusely. I didn't write it like that (I'm not that much of a moron), but fanfiction did it and I can't seem to fix it.  
  
That night Tom spent quite a bit of time in bed thinking about the prospect of a sham marriage. At first it had just sort of seemed like an amusing fantasy that he would think about for ten to fifteen minutes and then shelve in his hard working, gorgeous brain, much like other fantasies, such as creating a pencil that would never run out of eraser or a penguin that could tell time. However, it was not to be. He simply couldn't get the charming thought off his mind. He tossed and turned, thinking it over from every angle and soon all of the difficulties started to seem less and less difficult. He did love to solve problems in order to do useless things involving a great deal of deceit and this looked like an excellent opportunity. "Yes..." he said to a nearby snake. "This just might work." Then he repeated his statement for dramatic effect.  
  
The next morning Pansy awoke to find a ridiculously large bluebird sitting casually on her windowsill. "Oh, go away, you fat excuse for a bird," she said good-naturedly. The bird flew away, softly weeping. She then began to hum a delightful tune about mornings and sunshine and various other things of that nature. She kept this up, while going about her morning routine until she heard a knock at her door. She leapt up from the jig saw puzzle she had been working on and went to answer it. "Oh, hello, Tom," she said, flipping her hair back.  
  
"Hello, Pansy," he answered."  
  
"What's going on?" she asked. "Is it time for breakfast?"  
  
"Not yet, but I think it's soon." He actually had no idea, but he loved to answer questions in a positive way. He paused for awhile, just standing in the doorway, before he got to what he had wanted to talk about. "So..." he began nonchalantly, "maybe we should get married."  
  
"Why?" Pansy asked with an incredulous expression on her face.  
  
"Oh...you know..." he said evasively. "Just in case..."  
  
"Well... I suppose it would be pretty funny..." she looked about thoughtfully, twirling a piece of hair between two fingers. "Yes, I guess we could."  
  
"Great," said Tom. "You can announce it at breakfast."  
  
"I have to?"  
  
"Why not? They're your parents." Tom began to walk away, but stopped after about two feet, looking as if he had just thought of something. "There's one more thing I wanted to run past you, darling."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Well, I was considering starting a fight club, you know, like in Fight Club and I wondered what your thoughts on the subject were."  
  
"Actually, I don't really care one way or another."  
  
"Good...good...now I have two things to plan. Or possibly three; you'd better keep track in that sparkly notebook."  
  
"Whatever. See you a breakfast."  
  
But Tom had already wandered away. 


	9. I'm a DS!

A note from the venerable Princey: WOW!1 What have you folks been doing with yourselves for the past two years? I went to college!1 In fact, I'm still in college. Some new friends rekindled my passion for writing incredibly pointless stories. HAVE A GOOD TIME.

After Tom and Pansy announced their engagement, or rather, Pansy announced their engagement over an incredibly awkward breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee, time seemed to fly by. Soon, the couple graduated from Hogwarts and got married, to the delight of the Parkinson's, the disappointment of Ginny Weasely, and the inexplicable irritation of Draco Malfoy. The marriage had a wonderful, celibate beginning and everyone could agree that the two showed obvious promise. Both of them were incredibly wealthy so they were able to spend all of their time basking in the joys of various hobbies. That's why most people were reasonably shocked when Tom announced that he had begun a job as a detective sergeant for the Magical Scotland Yard, or MSY, completely bypassing, because of his numerous connections, the usual first step of becoming a detective constable.

"I'm a DS, Pansy," exclaimed Tom, late one afternoon, as he dashed into their lavish mansion with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"A what?" she asked, sipping her gin martini.

"A detective sergeant!"

"_A what?_" she asked again, nearly choking on her gin martini.

"A detective sergeant!" Tom said again.

"Oh. Why?"

"Well, do you remember when I first came to Hogwarts, the second time, I mean, and I wanted to try out not being evil?"

"I vaguely remember Potter muttering something about you not doing evil things any more."

"Right. Well, I got bored with that and now I want to do the opposite of committing atrocious crimes." Tom brushed a bit of hair out of his eye absentmindedly.

"Isn't the opposite of committing atrocious crimes not committing atrocious crimes?" Pansy asked reasonably.

"One could argue that it is, but the thing is, I don't want to _completely_ distance myself from crime. I love crime."

"So, in order to be closer to it, you're going to be a detective?"

"Yes. I have my first stakeout tonight. There's suspicion that one of Lucius Malfoy's secretaries is smuggling government documents and planning on selling them to He Who Must Not Be Named." Tom's eyes were gleaming with the prospect of catching the man red-handed.

"You mean he's planning on selling them to you?" Pansy wasn't hiding her disdain at her husband's odd new plans.

"Right. It'll be so easy to catch him."

Just then Mrs. Riddle, née Parkinson, thought of a potential complication. "But why does this secretary think he can sell you the papers. You haven't done a thing in the way of taking over the world in quite some time and everyone knows that Lucius has been trying to reorganized your dark forces ever since you drank that youth potion in your orange juice. Granted, Lucius hasn't been very effective, but wouldn't it be easier for the man to just hand the papers over to his boss?"

"You'd think that, but this particular young man doesn't like Lucius Malfoy at all and is under the impression that the Dark Lord is about to rise again. I suppose you might say that I've been hinting very strongly that anyone who wants to really further the pureblood cause had better leave Malfoy and come back to my side. Little do they know, I've come to hate all of those pompous bastards over the past several months."

"That's quite the sting operation," Pansy said uneasily.

"Yes, I'm in a very unique position, in which I'm able to pull off the best sting operation the world has ever known."

"Good thing you used to be such a murderous dictator."


	10. Flashback

Of course, the real question wasn't why Tom could pull off such a wonderful sting operation, but rather, why he wanted to. Pansy couldn't help but notice that he was silent on the subject of why he hated the purebloods after spending such a long time working with them, even marrying one of them. "Tom," she said in her most inquisitive tone of voice, "why do you call the purebloods 'pompous bastards'?"

"Well," said Tom, "I could tell you—or I could show you with a flashback and I think we both know that a flashback would be a lot more fun."

He had a point.

**Flashback**:

Tom was sitting in the local library, enjoying a cup of coffee that he had smuggled inside, cheerfully flouting the library's "no food or beverage" rule. He knew that he would never be caught because he was sitting in the reference section and he was positive that no one, not even a librarian, would _ever_ go into the reference section of a library. He chose to ignore the people that he saw occasionally straggling through and privately explained the fact that he was there by telling himself that he was much smarter than any one else. He was in the library that day because he wanted to find out something about the criminal justice system so that he could one day realize his dream of becoming a detective sergeant with the Magical Scotland Yard. Just then, to Tom's surprise, Lucius Malfoy strolled in, surrounded by some of his pureblooded friends.

"Do you know what I just discovered?" asked Lucius.

"No," said Tom, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Well, I'll tell you."

"How fortunate."

"Yes…"

"Go on." Tom was tiring of Lucius rapidly.

"I discovered that your father was a muggle." Lucius raised his eyebrows triumphantly.

Tom took his time in responding. "Didn't you already know that?" he finally inquired.

"I don't think so. Maybe."

Tom read a few more paragraphs of his book, _The Criminal Justice System and You_. Then, "So, what's your point?"

"That you're a filthy half-blood."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Is that all you care about? What about the fact that I almost conquered the world? Or that I'm the goddamn heir of Slytherin?"

"Well," said Lucius, in that annoying whispery voice of his, "soon _I'll_ have succeeded in conquering the world."

"But you're forgetting something."

"Oh? What?"

"That if I'm a genius and I was defeated by Harry Potter, then how do you, a complete idiot, stand a chance of succeeding where I failed?"

"Oh, that's easy. I'm a pureblood." And with that, Lucius and his friends sauntered out of the library, capes flowing behind them, laughing as they walked.

"I'll teach them to laugh at me," thought Tom. "I'll make sure Lucius never conquers the world." And with that, he devoted himself to stamping out the dark forces, although he had to admit that he was looking forward to all of the benefits that came with working for Magical Scotland Yard as well. "There's a selfish motive for everything, after all," he muttered.

**That's the end of the flashback.**

Pansy frowned. "Well," she said, "I suppose I can see why you'd be annoyed."

"Of course you can. It's completely obvious," Tom said encouragingly.


End file.
